Empty Promises
by focsfyr
Summary: Ken didn't think he had a heart left to break until Aya strikes the blow that shatters it warning: AyaRan bastardization


Title: empty promises  
  
Part: 1/1  
  
Author: focsfyr  
  
Pairing: AyaxKen  
  
Warnings: angst, some swearing and Aya/Ran bastardization  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own them and have no money. No copyright infringements are intended.  
  
Archive: my site [1]http://www.geocities.com/focs_mc others please ask  
  
C&C: loved ^_^  
  
*sounds*  
  
::thoughts::  
  
EMPTY PROMISES  
  
*snick, snick*  
  
One by one, the leaves fluttered softly to the floor, stripped from their rose by the tanned hand that held the pruning shears.  
  
The buzz of conversation filled the Koneko, a white noise that drowned out everything. Fragmented phrases occasionally became intelligible for a moment before vanishing again into the steady murmur that drowned out everything.  
  
*snick*  
  
Ken swore he could hear every leaf fall. The din was deafening and, like nails on a chalkboard, it sent shivers up his spine. Tremors that were echoed in Ken's hands and by rapid breaths he struggled to hide. No one could know just how on edge he was.  
  
But he knew. The burning tension coiled tightly in his chest felt ready to break free at any moment. He could feel his heart pounding, pounding -- like it would never stop rattling the bars of its cage - pounding...  
  
"Irrasshaimase!" Omi's bubbly voice greeted a customer while the boy tried to ignore the lanky blond sprawled in the chair next to him.  
  
"And so this babe I don't know comes right up to me and tries to knee me in the balls! -- and damn! She was hot. A bit temperamental, but *hot* -- but seriously, right there on the street corner! Then she starts screaming at me -- she could've outdone a banshee -- about how I was a total prick for standing her up last night..."  
  
"*Did* you?"  
  
Youji blinked. "Did I what?"  
  
Omi let out a long-suffering sigh and rolled his eyes in annoyance. "Stand her up, Yotan."  
  
"Me?? Of course not!" Youji scoffed, "I couldn't have met her before, I'd remember a babe with tits like *that*..."  
  
The shears in his hand looked extremely inviting, but by pure force of will Ken kept them snipping away at the roses rather than launching them at Youji's head. Instead, he tried to zone out the sound of the oblivious playboy's animated ranting about some bitch that assaulted him but he still wanted to fuck.  
  
::Horny little slut.::  
  
Ken snorted quietly. The man would hop into bed with *anything* so long as it was hot...god, it was getting hot.  
  
::But the store's air conditioned...:: so what! The heat was smothering him, and the crowd pressing in, high-pitched voices assaulting his ears while Youji and Omi started to bicker.  
  
They were getting too close. He could hardly *breathe* they were so close. The beat of his heart throbbed in his ears and the voices droned on about nothing.  
  
"Oh, god...*look* at him! He's even cute in that hideous orange sweater...*sigh*"  
  
Ken choked back razor edged words and forced himself to ignore the ditz ogling Aya. ::I've got to leave...:: Of course, they'd suspect... ::I can't be here right now. I'll scream if I have to stay here... I can't stand to be near them... near *him* (the frigid bastard.)::  
  
He couldn't listen any longer; their voices hurt his ears. Ken's teeth clenched, hands trembled, his legs ached to *run.* Somewhere... *anywhere,* so long as it wasn't here where he had to listen to their goddamn *voices!*  
  
Oblivious to the burning anger rising in Ken's blood, every one of them talked on of pointless trivialities ::except *him*:: and he just wanted to let loose his temper's leash and scream at them to ::*SHUT UP!*:: and just leave him alone because they were driving him *insane!* He just needed to be alone, in the quiet. No kids, no companions, no girls clumsily trying their hand at flirtation, trying to lure him into conversation or -- god forbid -- a date.  
  
He just needed to be alone. ::The way I always am.:: Alone physically as much as he was emotionally...because no matter how well his fellow assassins thought they knew him -- ::"fellow" assassins, that's a laugh:: -- they hadn't even scratched the surface or seen the person beneath.  
  
The ex-soccer player put up a good front, but it was just that - and only that. He'd been alone ever since dear, *dear* Kaze betrayed him twice over. Having his most trusted companion twice try to kill him hurt so much. *Too* much.  
  
It was better to be alone than suffer that kind of pain.  
  
Better not to trust any than to give his trust too easily.  
  
Trust and promises were like hearts: only there to be broken.  
  
They would never find out though, these innocent white assassins. Not from him, not from anyone, because the only other who really knew him was feeding Hell's flames, bathed in his own blood.  
  
::"I'll see you in hell."::  
  
"Too late," he whispered wryly. ::I'm already there.::  
  
"What was that Kenken?" Youji asked, leaning in so close Ken could feel the heat of his body burning his skin. Somehow he didn't flinch away, but Youji was so close...his presence intrusive...Ken just wanted to snarl and push him away onto the cold, hard floor.  
  
He didn't. It was harder than it should have been considering they were supposed to be friends.  
  
Ken set aside the shears and busied his hands with an arrangement so he wouldn't break the blonde's nose.  
  
"Too late for what?" Youji smirked at Ken's frown and took a drag from his cigarette.  
  
"C'mon Kenken, what's the big secret?" His smirk grew to a smile.  
  
::He's *laughing* at me!:: The brunette's fist clenched. His heart pounded so hard he couldn't breathe...  
  
That's it. ::I've got to get out of here. If I don't leave I'll snap, I'll hurt someone, I'll scream...::  
  
"I'm leaving," he announced. "Fill in for me and close the shop." The last was directed at the shocked blond with the cigarette now dangling from his lips.  
  
The rest of Weiß stared at the stranger they saw, whose laughing brown eyes were shuttered and cold. ::That got their attention.::  
  
Finally he was outside, in fresh air, no bodies, but still voices. Omi calling after him "Ken what's wrong?" with the whispers of the girls as a backdrop, all lost in the throb of his bike between his legs and screech of the tires as he pulled a tight U-turn and sped away.  
  
------------------------  
  
Brown eyes stared at the smoke spiraling lazily up towards the ceiling from the ashtray as the man dressed and left the cheaply bought room. The bed had been less than clean and grimy yellow paint hung in strips from the cracked walls. The man hadn't noticed, half drunk and completely sated after enjoying a bought and paid for whore.  
  
Or assassin. Whatever. It depended on Ken's mood more than anything else.  
  
Ken winced in pain as he stretched and got up off the bed. The man - Ken hadn't bothered to ask for a name, but whoever he was, he was married; he'd been wearing his ring - he hadn't been gentle. They rarely were. But he didn't mind the pain. It was only his due. Penance for his sins ::by committing another.:: Though he didn't believe in god, his conscience demanded the blood he spilled be repaid with his own.  
  
Besides, rough sex was far preferable to cutting, though the bite of the blade held its own appeal. Sex didn't leave the same telltale marks. Bruises were passed of easily as the result of a mission. Scarred wrists would be much harder to explain.  
  
Dark bruises circled his wrist, black in the dim neon lights seeping in from the street, turning his skin dark crimson.  
  
He snorted softly in amusement. How appropriate. His hands were drenched in blood from their missions and somehow they wouldn't come clean; it had seeped in to his skin and marked him for life. His *other* nighttime pursuits just added one more stain on his already blackened soul.  
  
At least this one had paid, most didn't bother.  
  
Stretching languidly, he pulled on his clothes and stuffed the crumpled twenties in his pocket.  
  
Oh, how the others would laugh ::the bastards:: or go wide-eyed with shock. Sweet Kenken, a whore?  
  
No, not really...but certainly no better.  
  
Some paid him, some didn't. He didn't ask for it, they just assumed it was required, thought they were paying a prostitute. He didn't bother to disillusion them.  
  
Yay, extra bonus for him. But Ken didn't care whether he got paid or not, it served it's purpose regardless: it made him forget. The pain of his body eased the agony in his soul.  
  
The door of the dingy room creaked closed behind him.  
  
He ached. This one had left bruises, they pulled with each step -- on his arms, branded across his hips and inside his ass.  
  
It looked like he'd be wearing long sleeves for a while.  
  
------------------------  
  
Wind whipped Ken's hair into a tangled mess. He'd forgotten his helmet and couldn't be bothered to retrieve it, not when it was back in the room below the shop...where *he* was. Not when the brunette was in such a dangerous mood himself.  
  
The needle on the speedometer passed 120 km/h.  
  
He couldn't leave fast enough after finishing tonight's mission and facing the bloodshed involved...he needed a fuck, a hard one.  
  
125. 130.  
  
Someone willing to help him forget, screw him roughly and taste of his tainted blood.  
  
He left his bike in an ally and slipped unnoticed past the bouncer (distracted by the hand some bitch had down his pants) and into the club. The stench of sweat and smoke hit him like a sledgehammer, it made him feel sick but his gaze roamed the room restlessly in search of...  
  
Brown eyes widened as they settled upon a familiar mane of orange hair. ::Schwarz...:: Schuldich was alone at the bar. Bottles cluttered the counter, proving him to be more than a little buzzed, but the slight slump to his shoulders made him appear more depressed than drunk.  
  
Besides, his malicious smirk was missing.  
  
::Trying to drown out your sorrows?:: Ken wondered speculatively ::So am I.:: A smile twisted his lips as he toyed with the idea of cheering the red head up.  
  
The German was almost as big a slut as Youji, so was bound to be a good lay...and with his penchant for mind games Schuldich would have no qualms with treating him roughly...  
  
Perfect.  
  
::Tsk, tsk, Kenken,:: his mind chided as he slipped between sweaty bodies, jostled from all sides and groped by unknown hands ::sleeping with the enemy, what *would* the others say?::  
  
They'd probably greet him with a punch in the gut before turning him in as a traitor. But they would never know, so who cared? His business, not theirs.  
  
And this...this...he was actually looking forward to his sexual romp this time. It would be fun -- a challenge -- to play the innocent victim while the telepath molested his (artfully protesting) body, held him down roughly and screwed his brains out...  
  
Schuldich might even think he'd actually forced him...or not. There was a reason he was so good at fucking with people's minds, and it wasn't his innate charm. Either way the German would probably get a kick out of screwing an 'innocent' Weiß kittens brains out, only to find little Siberian a bigger whore than he.  
  
Amusing, to say the least.  
  
Chocolate eyes intent, he slipped a look of bewildered innocence back onto his face. The perfect bait for his unsuspecting prey.  
  
He started as a hand seized his arm and wrenched him around to meet piercing violet eyes. "What do you think you're doing?" The redhead's cold voice hardly rose above the din. "You shouldn't be here."  
  
"The *hell* I don't!" ::What the *fuck*? He ignores everything I say and treats me like shit...and *now* he's trying to tell me what to do?:: Oblivious to the fury that seethed within his grasp, Aya dragged Ken out of the crowd and down a dimly lit hall, lined on both sides with small rooms, each equipped with a creaky bed.  
  
"I was *trying* to get laid," Ken snarled angrily. Aya's grip on his arm tightened.  
  
Maybe he should just sink his teeth into that slender white hand, give himself a taste of blood, and get Aya to stop squeezing his arm off. Two birds, so to speak...or maybe cats...  
  
Ken's back met with the wall with Aya's slender body pressed against his.  
  
"No you're not."  
  
"Yes. I am. You have no right to stop me. Now let go, you're not my babysitter..."  
  
"No, I'm not." Ken's eyebrow arched in surprise as the hand he'd thought of biting roughly grasped his jaw. "But *you.* *Are.* *Mine.*" Aya's shove tumbled him through a door and onto a rickety-looking bed that shrieked in protest at Ken's slight weight. In moments, Aya had his struggling body pinned to the stained mattress, his arousal hard against Ken's leg.  
  
Long fingers tangled in soft brown hair and wrenched back Ken's head, leaving his neck open to the assault of ravenous lips.  
  
::I can't get him off!:: Despite his earlier plans, Ken was almost in a panic. This was Abyssinian, his teammate! His -- well, not really friend -- but this was *Aya* pinning him down! Not some nameless married man out for a bit of forbidden pleasure! Perfect teeth clamped down on Ken's collarbone in warning as he tried to avoid the wet squirm of tongue tracing his neck.  
  
"You are *mine* you little slut whether you know it or not! Do you know what it's like? Do you??" A breathy whisper, right in his ear now, leaning in so close alcohol tainted breath warmed the juncture of neck and jaw. "You've taunted me for months with your body and pretty face, those big, pleading eyes never leaving me for a second. Slipping out at night, coming back reeking of sex with your hair all a mess and that satisfied smile -- hovering -- on your lovely, lovely lips." Lips he stole savagely with his own, biting hard enough to draw blood and leaving no room for argument.  
  
His eyes drew Ken in until he was drowning in pools of the deepest twilight. ::He wanted me? The cold bastard that cares nothing for anyone?:: A ghost of a smile flitted across his face. ::Who knew?::  
  
His entire body holding Ken down, Aya began to strip off the younger man's pants. Aya's hands roamed every inch of smooth flesh as it entered his view, claiming, possessing, marking Ken as undeniably *his* with hungry nips and sharp nails that carelessly drew blood.  
  
Ken's skin was like satin, so soft to the touch...Aya couldn't stop touching it. Ken's chest, his waist, copper all painted perfectly with bright streaks of red...blood red.  
  
The redhead was so absorbed in ridding Ken of his clothes that he didn't notice when the younger man stopped fighting for freedom and began to return the favor. Nor did he see the crescents of blood blooming beneath his fingernails, only to trickle down and disappear into the sheets.  
  
----------------------  
  
Ken's head was throbbing when he woke to cold, rumpled sheets wound around his nude body and an empty room with no redhead in sight.  
  
::Alone again.::  
  
It was to be expected -- really it was -- no surprise. After all, what would a beautiful, talented, wonderfully sexy man want with a plain, clumsy - used - little slut.  
  
If he listened carefully, Ken could almost hear his hopes shattering.  
  
A tear landed on his arm, shining like a diamond in the gray light of dawn. He watched as it slowly slid down the curve of his arm and waited for the rest to fall. But none did. He could feel them waiting, burning his eyes, but somehow his tears just *would not* come...for anything.  
  
Not for Aya or their victims, not for the two blondes back at the store...and especially not for himself.  
  
He rolled onto his side and curled his body around a pillow, burying his face in the fluff and crying torrents of dry tears. Finally, he lacked the strength -- or maybe motivation-- to move from the bedroom, so he just lay on the bed, staring blankly past the bedside table toward the door.  
  
What he saw almost made him break down again.  
  
Pulling himself together long enough to dress and splash water on his face, Ken put on his jacket and headed toward the door. It was a typically white and grimy hotel door, one in a long line that had watched him sleep with dozens of men, one after another, all of them meaningless except as an escape. It wasn't unique in the least, but why should it be? Last night had been every bit as meaningless as each one come before.  
  
At least, it was to Aya.  
  
Nothing more than a pleasant pastime, no commitment involved. It certainly fit in with their leader's ice cold soul. Even if they *were* teammates, they weren't friends.  
  
The closing of the door sounded lonelier than ever, echoing forever in the void in his chest as he left his midnight haunt...forever. ::I'm leaving forever this time,:: he vowed. ::It's not worth it any more.::  
  
The crisp bills still laid out on the bedside table hurt more than he'd ever thought possible. More than he could bear and still live.  
  
References  
  
1. http://www.geocities.com/focs_mc 


End file.
